


east demon

by WhiteSheep



Category: Original Work
Genre: A little bit of plot anyway, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bedroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Deepthroating, Dirty Thoughts, Druids, Dry Sex, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fantasy, First Time, Forced Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Innocence, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Lube, M/M, Magic, Male Solo, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, No Lube, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Royalty, Seduction, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sort Of, Sweet Talking, Virginity Kink, excessive cum, mixed with dirty talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSheep/pseuds/WhiteSheep
Summary: A Prince meets the greatest enemy of his kingdom. Things go differently than what he imagined.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 38
Kudos: 498





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIM: This is a work of fiction meant only to entertain. The author does not condone any form of break of consent/rape.
> 
> Disclaim 2: PLEASE do not use this or any of my other stories as an example of what real and healthy sex is/should be (let's keep in mind that condoms are not _just_ to prevent pregnancy. And if you're planning to stick something somewhere or let someone stick something in you, LUBE is your absolutely BEST FRIEND. Dry sex is only fun in theory!) and even LESS of what a healthy, nontoxic relationship is/should be.
> 
> 11/05/2020: editing and polishing.

Mao Jao is a name that few in the kingdom know about since storytellers prefer titles and monikers instead: Mage King, The Accursed, East Devil...

Almost no one uses the name the monster calls himself.

If Roan recognizes it, it's the result of years without much to do but read and reread the books allowed in his tower. _Almost 20 years ago, a creature emerged from the eastern shadows and attacked the kingdom._ A popular story, born from the historical event known as The Human-Druid War. But aside from the battle itself, there isn´t a consensus on the details, the reasons.

Why the East Devil came to Avalan? What compelled the druids to march against a human kingdom after 200 years of peace?

What did the Mage King want?

And why he left, as sudden and without warning as he came, taking nothing with him?

Many versions were written, all no more than speculations. The more accepted - even by the royal family - it´s that he wanted the land itself. Wanted to purge it of all human life to form a new forest, similar to Wildwood: the continent where the druids dwell. A place with cities made from living trees and where hunting is forbidden. And that his abrupt retreat was due to divine intervention after the Queen defeated him in battle.

Many say the Gods passed judgment upon his villainous heart and cursed his wounds to never heal. To fester, and _'reflect the rotten soul dwelling inside. A warning to all who approach.'_ Condemning the Demon to hide for all eternity. _'In a cloak black as the night, that makes no sound when dragging across the floor behind the mage like a shadow'._ The words are whispers inside his head. _'Be aware of a figure clad darker than the darkness, when walking in the forest. For it may be the last thing you´ll see'._ And Roan can only watch as the creature walks towards the carriage, past the defeated knights. The fighting has faded to wails of pain and fear. Roan can see blood painting the ground, his convoy on its knees in front of dark-skinned figures. 

He can´t breathe, terror freezing the blood in his veins, as the figure reaches for the carriage´s door. It opens without a creak. A hand with dark skin and long fingers adorned with many rings slip past a long sleeve and grab the threshold.

(Sometimes the authors agree on some details)

(Among them is that Mage King escaped with life...and plans for revenge)

The creature bends and steps inside, his head almost scraping the ceiling. A giant among men, the books said, towering even over the mightiest of the knights. Roan backs even harder against the opposite wall, knuckles turning white as he grips the seat. And Mao Jao sits on the opposite side, cloak rustling over the padded wood as their legs brush together. Roan tries to recoil away, but there is no space- 

The door slams shut by itself.

And all of sudden, there is also no air.

Roan chokes, can´t inhale.

From the depths of the hood, a voice smooth like a river speaks. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Roan Machiavelli."

Draped over the eyes, it casts the lower part of his face into shadows. Nothing can be seen. Fighting to breathe through the terror gripping his lungs, it takes Roan two tries to force a reply out. “If... if it´s gold that you´re after, I´m afraid that I do not carry much with me. But I can write to the royal castle and request more if you promise not to hurt my people-”

A bass laugh, deep and rumbling, cuts his words. Roan wides his eyes as the druid shifts and the scant light filtered by the curtains touch a beardless chin. “Don´t play coy, my prince,” he says with bared teeth, sharp canines like of a wolf, a long, white scar crossing thin lips. _Terrible, too terrible to even look at_. “I can see in your eyes. You know exactly who I am.”

A sob is working its way up to his throat and Roan attempts his best to suffocate it, blinking his burning eyes. He must not cry. He´s a prince, the Queen´s third son, and this is the Enemy. He cannot show weakness.

_‘He´ll prey on it. Do not show weakness. The Devil from the East won´t forgive vulnerabilities in your soul.’_

“What do you want, foul creature?” Roan´s voice trembles despite his efforts to sound calm.

“Oh, my lovely human,” The Mage King purrs. “I want what I always wanted since I first stepped in this accursed land twenty years ago.”

“My mother won´t ever surrender the kingdom!”

“And she has my blessing to keep it,” The druid replies amused, a lopsided smile sloping his mouth. 

Roan freezes.

_What?_

Without warning, the mage reaches for the hood and Roan flinches back in shock, head knocking on the wall. He hastily turns his face away and closes his eyes, feeling his heart jump.

There´s the rustle of fabric moving and then-

“Why do you close your eyes to me, little prince?”

Roan bites hard on his tongue, shaking so hard while his stomach turns with shame and fear. _Nausea. Festering wounds oozing pus and blood, his rot flesh clinging to bones burned black around two empty holes where the eyes should be._

_It could not be called a face any longer._

He´s too much of a coward.

“P... please, let my people go. They don't have anything to do with this,” he croaks out, begging. The carriage never before felt smaller, with a monster sitting inches away from him.

Will he die, then?

Roan jerks when something touches him: fingers, long and warm. They slide down his jaw, the many rings tracing cold trails on his skin. He stills all movement, holding his breath. “They don't interest me,” the druid replies, and Roan feels goosebumps run down his back because, all at once, warm breath caress his face. And he realizes how close the creature is now. _When- when did he move?_

He lets out a shaky gasp of air but doesn´t dare inhale again. A decaying body so close- Why- why is he so close? He´ll not be able to control his reaction! If he offends the demon—!

“As long as they behave, they have nothing to fear from me.”

Roan can't even feel relieved. Every ounce of strength in his body is being used to stop him from shaking in terror. The mage moves, his breathing ghosting over his jaw and then lips are brushing his neck. _Will- will he bite me? Drain my blood to gain power?_ He thinks in frantic panic, lungs burning in demand to him to breathe in deeper. Faster. Air. _I need-_

He jumps when a hand lands on his knee.

“What- what are you doing?” He asks, his choking voice no louder than a whisper.

“Why do you close your eyes?”

"I-" His control cracks, air rushing down his throat by a sharp inhale, a gasp, when teeth dig in the skin under his jaw. Roan jerks, panic overriding any rational thought and he moves to shove the demon off— but it´s like pushing a wall. Unmovable broad shoulders under his hands. And the druid grabs him by his upper arms, pulling him up and away from the wall and _sucks_ the flesh between his teeth.

Roan flinches, writhing as a weak, small protest leaves him, shutting his eyes at a blooming sting. It grows, a pricking pain as the tender skin stretches, open mouth warm and wet and then his tongue brush— His arms get weak without reason and he no longer can push, whole body tensing, breath faltering. _What's this-_

Mao pulls back, flesh slipping from between his teeth and lips with a wet slurp. Shivers efflorescence down his back, spreading over his thighs. Hot and cold tingles the wet spot of his skin and it feels… strange. Roan squirms, breathes short and shallow and a little fast, feeling confused and shaken. 

It-… it doesn´t hurt.

He bit him but…it doesn’t hurt. How-

_Why-_

Roan draws air in and leaks it out in a whimper, flinching at the feeling of Mao sliding his tongue over the aching spot. Slithering. Slow. Hot. His fingers grip the black cloak tight. The druid moves lower then, mouth open against his skin and pouring warm exhales, licking his neck.  The hands over his arms shift to his back and then higher, and Roan doesn´t understand why until something falls to his lap without warning.

His jabot.

The prince startles, a hand flying to his bare neck in instinct. It brushes with longs strands of hair, warm skin— the druid´s face as he moves to kiss the hollow of his neck.  However, the young man doesn´t have a moment to react to this: there´s a jingle of metal and then Roan feels his belt sliding open.

"Wh-!"

With a lurch of horror, Roan scrambles to grab the hands pulling his shirt from his breeches. "No- stop-!"  He jostles violently, shoes smacking the opposite seat and then skidding on the floor, heels screeching on the wood as he attempts to kick. To push the mage away. But he's slipped past his knees and closer, between his tights, and there´s no space. Powerful hands move despite his desperate attempts to fight them and his shirt is shoved up as Roan cries in panic.

 _He´ll rip off my heart_ , the panic bellows inside his head.  Loud, drowning out any reason or doubt, any questioning of why would the demon bother to undress him if that was the case.

“Please," Still struggling he pleads, eyes blurring with tears. He sobs, voice cracking. “Don´t hurt me- I, please-"

“I won´t,” The druid says- mumbles, voice low and quiet uttering the words as if telling a secret. Making a promise. Not angry or cruel but... something else altogether. And Roan´s voice dries out in the face of that, crumbling into pieces that clog his throat. His heart is pounding. "I would never, my dear."  Broad hands cup the gentle curve of his ribcage, moving a subtle caress against his chest and the air seems to get thinner again.

Roan bites his lips at the way his skin tingles under his palms, feeling more sensitive than normal. Like grazing over a bruise, sending a shiver of not quite pain and yet making it impossible not to be aware of it. “W-what are you doing?” his voice quivers in a weak whisper, so damn confused.

The greatest enemy of his kingdom, the monster that tried to destroy his family and killed thousands of humans in the war... is kneeling before him, touching him softly. Roan can't understand what he intends with this. Why didn't he kill him already?

Teeth graze over his exposed collarbone, making him shiver, and then the mage moves down to his chest. Long hair slide over his skin, smooth and cool. "What I always wanted to do..." He mumbles against his chest, lips touching right over his erratic heartbeat. His hands move, thumbs moving over his nipples and Roan swallows, shifting uncertain at the strange touch.

Warm breath spills over his left nipple, drawing a surprised inhale from him. “Don't be afraid. You´ll enjoy this.”

Roan opens his mouth to voice his rebuttal but finds instead himself drawing air sharply, as something wet and warm drags across his left nipple, sliding in all directions in sinuous slowness.  His back bucks, knees snapping tight to the druid and he´s grabbing the monster, fingers wrapping around cold hair as his body press himself against the foreigner without his permission. _What_ -! Its lips pressed open on his chest, Roan realizes in shock. A _mouth_. He sucks him, pulling the delicate tip deeper into his mouth in a gentle stretch. He shudders with a gasp, head hitting the wall. The wet and warm drag repeats. A t-tongue! He´s- he´s licking-

"No- w-what are you...!" He tugs the strands between his fingers, desperate to make him stop.  Each tortuous smear of saliva sends a burst of sparks through his chest and muscles, sending his body into quivers. His legs twitch against the druid. His voice thins out.  Mao strokes the tender, strained flesh and Roan whimpers when he bit by bit pulls back until his nipple comes loose with a wet _slurp_.

The prince collapses on the wall, feeling breathless. His chest pricks sensible and tender in the sudden cold air.

"Why-" his confused protest is interrupted by  Roan´s own squawk when the druid leans in again. Teeth graze over the untouched tip, diverging from the gentle touch of his lips around it.  Little agonies run through the prince as the rough tongue wanders around his aureole, wetting it with eager brushes - the feeling escalates when the druid sucks the nipple into his mouth again, the tip of his tongue curling back only to tease the very center in a touch light as a feather. His back bucks and arches on its own again, teeth clenching, throat working to hold back sounds.

His whole body flinches tense as the suction increases, dragging a sound from the bottom of his belly that he tries to smother. It builds on the back of his mouth, threatening to burst. Loud. Strange. He wheezes out frantic breaths through the nose, his throat is dry and parched. His face is hot with shame. Disorientation. What is this creature doing, latching on h-him,  not unlike an infant on a wet nurse? And why is he reacting like this?

What is this heat clenching his stomach? These shivers running down his back?

He shudders, his legs gripping the creature´s waist trembling.  Until a hand slides down his breeches and he chokes a cry of alarm when he feels long fingers breaching his smallclothes. Roan jolts, heels hitting and slipping on the floor as he kicks, legs writhing – but it´s useless.  The druid continues to suck his nipple, fingertips brushing his length as they wrap around him. A wordless outcry gets tangled in the mess of noises in his throat.

It feels so hot down there. His face is burning. His everything is burning.

Roan presses his face against the wall, smothering the whimpers as he clings to his shoulders, and he can feel him moving lower, firm and slow. Touching where he was taught to never touch, to not even _look_. His most intimate place, meant only to the woman he is supposed to marry.  He finds his back craning, grasping the rough cloak with toes splaying inside shoes, moaning desperate attempts of pleas that never go anywhere.

He whimpers when the mage finally releases his nipple, ceasing the torment in his chest. He moves, shifting higher and Roan feels lips pressing the corner of his mouth.

The prince startles and in his agitation, snaps his eyes open. "What-"

Eyes made of gold meet his, Mao Jao so close that their foreheads are almost touching.

Long hair falls like a waterfall over his shoulders, the pure white color a startling contrast with the black cloak and the dark skin. Smooth and soft-looking.  The characteristic pointed ears of the druids peer through the alabaster locks, bejeweled with golden cuffs and delicate chains like no other Roan has ever seen before.

There are two scars on his face: one running down from his lips to his chin; another slicing over his nose and running down his cheeks.

His words die out. Roan stares, his mind blank.

_Terrible, too terrible to even look at._

The East Devil smiles, eyes curving in amused half-moons.“You´re as beautiful as I thought,” He mumbles into the air between them, voice like velvet and Roan feels something faltering inside his chest—

"Makes me want to eat you whole."

Powerful hands grab him behind his knees and push them up, making him slide down the seat as his ass is lifted in the air. And his shout of surprise chokes when the same hands grab his pants pulling them down. Roan grabs the end of his breeches with half-formed words of panic, fighting to keep them where they are.

But with a lurch, Mao yanks them off his grip and Roan wails as his intimacy is exposed, his face bursting in flames.

"N-no, stop!"

Why is he doing this? U-undressing him and, and touching him this way?  What- then the druid lowers his head and without warning, Roan´s consciousness _halts_ as his cock is embraced in hot wetness, lips drawing tight around him as the man lowers his head and eats him up slowly.  His hips twerk, his back arching as his head hits the wall behind him, gasping loudly  – but at this first hint of motion, the druid holds him down and he can´t move.

Grasping white hair and yanking, Roan snaps thighs closed around the demon´s head. “N-no-!” Breath rattling in his throat, Roan squeezes his eyes shut. “What are you d-doing?!”

The mage murres low in his throat, a soft croon of sorts and Roan shivers violently as his tongue hot and slick, curls and drags over him.  Stroking and lashing, and the feeling sends warmth in waves through his body, pooling in his stomach like fire. W-what´s this? He´s _sucking_ his cock, he´s- in his _mouth_ -!  Tongue grinds and caresses, the coarse texture exploring all over while he sucks ever so slowly, lips pressing down to claim more and more. It feels- feels so strange, like nothing he ever felt before. Too much. So much.

The druid swings his head up, dragging his length between tightly sealed lips, only to lean down again with wet little sounds. Roan can feel his head grazing the bumpy roof of his mouth before gliding all the way over to the back. The shaking worsens and Roan tries to breathe.  Mao is moving into slow, easy bobs, letting his tongue press long, tender strokes up and down his underside as his hands keep a firm grip on the inside of his thighs.  And Roan´s cock seems to be lightning with sensibility, hot sparks up his spine that makes him jerk and whimper, his balls feeling weird and heavy almost as if- as if churning.

“No, p-please...! I- I´m feeling strange!” He sobs, scared and overwhelmed, his body feeling foreign and as if not his own. Legs squirming in twitches, his skin is so hot and he feels bothered and in agony. An urge building up inside of him – for _what_ , he doesn´t know.

The druid drags his lips around him gives a wet slurp around his cockhead before leaning back. And  suddenly everything feels cold and terrible. He opens his eyes and looks down at the man. Thunder runs through him as when a toothy grin is aimed at him from behind- from behind h-his cock. Standing. Glistering wet with saliva and the pinkish head exposed with the skin drawn back.

He raises a shaky hand to it and shivers at the brush of his fingers on the underside.  A throbbing pressure fills it, and a clear, watery liquid collects in the slit before a single drop rolls down the side.

“What… what did you do?” He asks, voice hushed and brittle.

Mao Jao huffs a quiet laugh. “Never had an erection before, little prince?”

“I...” Biting his lower lip, he looks away from his aching intimacy with heat burning his cheeks. E-erection... it that how it´s called? “Some- sometimes, when I wake up. Sometimes, it-... alone... Never...” His throat is dry.  He recalls how they taught him to never touch this place, for it was the quickest way to invite temptation into his soul.

_I didn´t know... it could be forced into this state…_

The wizard hums and Roan jerks when he then wraps his erection with one hand. "Ah-!" He moves up and down and the prince shudders helplessly with the heated shock that it brings. It feels... less intense than when he used his mouth, but Roan still shivers, gripping the seat beneath him. His hips want to move for some reason, and he can barely keep himself from doing so.

Whatever is happening, it is an enemy of the kingdom in front of him. He must not get lost, must not let him have his way.

"Did you never touch yourself like this?"

With a warm face, he shakes his head. "It's... depraved." A thumb finds the hole in its tip and rubs, and Roan closes his eyes. He buries his face against his shoulder, but the goosebumps keep coming.  Especially as the mage continues to massage the area, spreading the oily liquid around the head.

"Depraved? Humans are curious creatures...  ” The druid's voice is close, and Roan feels him shifting into the seat, knees sliding under his thighs and locking against each side of his hips.  His hand moves back in a rhythmic back and forth and is unexpected, making the muscles of his thighs tremble in an effort to stay still. Roan whimpers. “Look at you... so beautiful, shaking and gasping with every touch of mine. I never saw anything _purer_ …”

The sentence ends in a purr, shimmering with something like- like hunger.  He hears the rustling of fabric, clothing sliding over clothing and skin before Mao also moves his hand away from his cock.  Roan feels the most terrible despair flooding him as his intimacy seems to pulse, hot and uncomfortable. He´s caught off guard by a feeling of… _abandonment_.

But he is startled out of these horrifying thoughts when hands find the underside of his thighs.  His body is bent in half as the mage pushes his legs against his chest, breeches and underwear left entangled around his knees. Roan s snaps his eyes to the druid's face above his, golden, half-closed eyes fixed on him.  But before he can question anything, Mao shifts up, and the young prince freezes as something brushes against his ass.

He looks down and confusion shatters into _shock_ : a huge, massive cock it what it is, framed by the now open cloak and the black pants hanging on his bare hip. Like his, but much… much bigger. Nine inches or more.  He can see the exposed head peeking through the crack of his butt, its shape with a slight point, before the length thickens as it descends in a slight curve with the base still half-hidden by the clothes.

Something inside Roan shivers at the sight of it, speeding up his heart. "What-..." He looks frightened at the druid; “What are you doing?”

The man smiles, a lazy curve at the corner of his lip. “This,” he says and moves his hip, shifting _that_ \- between his cheeks in a luscious heat, sinking slowly. Roan shivers and exhales in a hush, his mind spinning wildly trying to figure out what this man intends to do. His breath catches in his throat as he pushes the warm tip against the small ring normally hidden there. "Mmmh... there it is..." The mage mutters as viscous liquid suddenly wet his skin, flooding the small depression.

Roan opens his mouth to ask what he intended, but then the mage moves and a cry rips out of his throat instead as his hot head _squeezes_ against his little ring, stretching his muscles – forcefully widening it up, _burning_ , tearing, droplets of warm liquid spilling from the head and Roan´s back is curling, _pain_ like he never felt raising his hair like a scared cat coat. "W-! St-stop!” He slaps his hands against the druid, legs desperately seeking support to lift himself away, but they just kick uselessly into the air. Roan sobs. “Please- it hurts!”

“It's going to get better,” he coos, continues in a single thrust, _sinking_ , and Roan can feel a column of heat slowly welding inside, his nails clawing desperately at the man´s chest. He sobs, tear-filled eyes blurring his vision, trying to pull the air deeper and deeper and the sound coming out ruined and trembling. “Ooh, so tight...!” He huffs a breathless laugh. “Truly, no one has ever found their way inside here…? I´m your first, my little prince?” Roan is so wide open he can´t understand the words, his head spinning confused, overwhelmed – a flick of his eyes down and his breath rattles in his throat, breaking, the long, big- t-thing pressing between his ass cheeks and his hole bloodless-white with the pressure stretching thin around it, slowly swallowing the red shaft! A-and yet… the mage still has plenty more, not even a third of it was inside Roan.

The mage snickers, giving a little pull, which only tugs on the insides of his ass. The drive of his hips seems to shove all the air out of him in a bellow, his nails tearing at the man´s skin as his hole strained around the full, obscene girth of the enemy´s cock.

“Y-... you´re gonna… put everything-… i- inside?” Roan gasps shakily.

The golden eyes glim with something hungry, a flash of humor. Powerful hands sink into his thighs, the chill of the rings the mage is wearing cutting cold trails on his too hot skin. Then Mao bends over him and Roan cries out as he feels him driving in even deeper into his body, grinding his walls in a relentless and almost cruel friction, pulling at his insides of dry skin against dry skin. It would be almost agonizing- _it_ ´s agonizing, the drops of- of that _something_ leaking unceasingly from the tip drilling in, only smoothing the burning into something- he- he can´t pinpoint. It feels _too much_.

“By Minerva, yes...” The mage purrs above him and brushes their lips together, satisfaction like mulled wine soaking his voice. “It´s… _wonderful_ to finally be inside you.”

Roan squeezes his eye close, whole body trembling. His own cock is still as the mage´s hand left it, throbbing almost painfully, leaking that watery-liquid all over his belly. His skin is soaking in it, trickling down his sides as he fights off the fog closing around his mind with each inch plowing deep into his body, rubbing raw his walls, his internal muscles flexed uselessly around it. The mage is purring moans above him, nuzzling his hair as Roan feels that log of flash displacing his insides slowly, taking over and pushing things aside.

He manages to heave the very last inch of it into his hole, grinding tight to his ass as his head impales itself in between Roan´s lungs. Roan is shaking, mouth hanging open as he tries to breathe. He can feel his ring burning, stretched so wide around that indescribable girth as he can feel the hot, hard cock pressing his walls, unmalleable and unforgiving. His face burns with a nameless feeling when the realization hits him that this is-… the mage, _inside him_.

 _He´s… inside me_. W… why…? His mind is clouded, struggling to think straight. The thundering of his heart echoes on his ears, as his rasping breathing. He never thought of something like this happening and he can´t fathom the reason _why_ someone would-… would _do_ something like this. To what purpose? “W… why would y-you-… i-inside me…?”

The mage´s smile is like a cat – a lion. “Do you know what sex is, little prince?”

“I...” His thoughts become clear for a moment, running confused. A memory of his teacher explaining about 'heirs', however, sends his face ablaze. “But- but I´m not a... a w-woman...!”

The druid kisses his ear with laughter in his voice. "Should I make you pregnant with my baby?" There isn´t anything more than a tremble in his spine as a warning before that weapon shifts inside his ass, interrupting his protest at such a terrible proposal - getting pregnant with the enemy of his kingdom? His mind recoils from such an absurd idea, but his attention snaps back to his backside, the cold and dry air from carriage all too suddenly filling his lungs as his flesh is dragged raw and throbbing by the man slowly pulling out. Squeezing his eyes shut, Roan inhales deeper and deeper, his body quivering as it is emptied. But as abrupt as he started moving, the druid slams back in again, growling softly to himself, a low, contented sound.

His eyes snap open, but the air abruptly shoves from his lungs in a throaty moan as he rams to the hilt. His belly bulging outward right before his eyes, ribcage creaking, Roan is stuffed terrible full, folded up in the enemy´s hands and his consciousness cracks. His own cock is drooling, so hard and hot. Its _burns_ , the stretch, the drag- a fresh thrust and the throbbing length feels like it is tearing him in two. It´s impossible. It´s too big. It´s going to ruin him forever.

“S-st-!”

His back arches and he cries out shakily, feeling the druid burying inside him like a shaft of fire, pounding against his heart. The cloudiness from before starts to come back, closing around his mind, pushing worrying thoughts to the back as a different type of dizziness makes his head spin – a type he never felt before. Roan cannot understand what´s happening to his body, to _him_.

“A-ahn!”

The mage purrs and rests his arms beside his head, before resting their foreheads together, their breaths mingling. “Hmm… my little princeling, did you ever feel this way before?”

Roan shakes his head and without thinking pushes the shoulders above him, fingers digging into the hot skin as his legs close around the waist driving him crazy as if to stop it, hips moving against him nonstop. “No…!”

He doesn´t understand. Is… _this_ what s-sex is supposed to feel? But they only ever taught him sex is between a woman and a man, to have children. Not- not between two men, one _inside_ the others.

“N- no…!” He twists his head to the side, burying in his shoulder. Quiet groans roll from the druid´s lips at his ear as he plows his hole, hot and hard, thrusting in to reclaim the lost space, blissfully stuffing an emptiness Roan hadn't even known he had, cursing him to feel terribly empty afterward as the man pulls out once more. It´s torture. It´s _scary_. “Pull it o-out! It feels s-strange-!”

The mage rumbles a soft laugh. “Is that how I´m making you feel, little prince? Tell me.” His eyes are warm puddles of liquid gold, tracing his expression full of appreciation. “There´s no need to be shy…”

“N-… no, please-…!”

He doesn´t want to feel good. He doesn´t want it to feel good. He´s the sworn enemy. The monster who brought war to his kingdom, to his mother’s reign. There shouldn´t be anything but _disgust_ towards to touch of that defiled man.

Even so-

“ _Ah_ -!”

The man slams against him, moving his hips in firm, steady rocks, slamming him against the bench at each shove. The liquid he keeps leaking inside him starts to spill from his hole, scraped off from his cock with each fresh thrust to run down his ass and soak the wood and the thighs slapping noisily to his skin. The carriage starts to rock slightly, the wood creaking softly. And Roan clings to him, curling toes in the air as his legs squeeze around the druid in fitfully spasms, nails scratching the firm muscles under his hands – feeling his insides being washed with fluids, slicking his walls and making him slide in easier and easier with every thrust.

And it should relieve him but every hungry shove overrides everything, his nerves burning as that ramming hot flesh re-forms his insides to fit the druid´s desires – _lust_ , as it was warned to him many times. _Do not fall for the temptation of the body._

Roan never understood the meaning of that, until this moment feeling the throbbing and leaking, hot cock reaming at his ass, twisting cry after cry out of him. It feels too much and not enough at the same time, misting his eyes as it pushes him closer and closer to some unknown edge, ready to swallow him. Some boundary is about to be crossed – closer and closer, an invisible limit that once he passes there´ll be no turning back, he knows. _Irreversible_.

“What´re you doing to me-!” He sobs, clinging stronger to the man claiming him as if they were no more than animals. His sanctity being violated, his virginity taken not by the woman he would be married but by the enemy, groaning and gasping as he pleasures himself with his body inside a carriage swinging with the motion of those unforgiving hips. “Ah-!”

The pleasure soaks into his mind – because this _is_ it, the pleasure of the flesh, the unholy sin. He can´t think right, thoughts swirling inside his head without order or sense, the urgency begging him to put a stop to this mixing with the heavy, dense desire of ‘ _more’_. He wants _more_ , Roan realizes with a clenched heart, a high moan. _Give me more_.

The terror of saying these words out loud grind his teeth together but it´s useless. His very own act of breathing rings out through the small place as a vulgar, needy sound, full of the things he shouldn´t say – shouldn´t _feel_. “A-anh-!” Roan sobs and then moans, arching his back as the druid growls and slams his hips against him over, tearing at his ass while throbbing fat and hot, drilling in and out of him as his powerful thighs beat his bruised ass.

The mage groans as his hips drive in, cataclysmic, crushing him against the bench and throbbing thickly inside, challenging his already tense hole. The wood creaks, protesting. “I´m gonna cum,” He breathes, a moan without air, whispered like a secret into his ear. “I´m gonna cum inside you _,_ make you _pregnant._ ”

 _What?_ Those words managed to break the fog of pleasure, jerking a small piece of rationality back. Pregnant? He is going to impregnate him? Roan opens his eyes in terror. _No, no, no_ \- he couldn’t, not from this man, he couldn’t carry the child of the kingdom´s enemy. He would be exiled, dishonored. _Killed_. His mother would _never_ forgive him. His sisters and brothers would hunt him, destroy him. Roan tries to push away the man above him, sobbing in desperation, “No! Please, don’t- _Ah!_ ”

The druid pounds in hard, bending his spine as his cock seems to swell, twitching and throbbing inside him and then- _heat_ , as he never felt before, bursts into existence somewhere deep in his body. He gasps, feeling it spreading quickly setting all his insides tingling wonderfully, warming his almost painfully overstimulated walls as if melting the pain away – leaving only the feeling curling his toes. The warmth sends a wave of glowing pleasure rushing through his body, trembling, and the pressure at the base of his abdomen breaks like a dam. Warm liquid splatters between them, damping his skin, as Roan shivers and moan, his cock tingling amazingly.

The druid gives a hoarse moan and jerks his hips into a small thrust, not really dragging out but simple digging in even more before breaking into powerful, grinding circles, rubbing scraped raw nerves, as another rush of heat floods him – Roan gasps as thick, unfamiliar liquid spirts from his hole, viscous and hot like fresh elixir, running down between his cheeks in fat drops.

 _Is… is this the seed?_ The one they told him made women get pregnant? _T- there´s so much…_

The druid exhales, his breath caressing his neck. “ _Amazing_ …” He murmurs, voice husky, nuzzling the sensible patch of skin under his jaw. The grinding slowly melts into a lazy, sloppy roll of his hips, leisurely sliding out and in a few inches, making more and more of that unfamiliar liquid leak.

Roan shakes his head, eyes blurring full of tears. “Please, no…” He begs. “Don´t make me pregnant.”

“Too late.” The mage groans as he pushes in all the way once more, striking against his ass. A cry rips out of Roan that melts into a gasp as his insides slosh when seed fills him for the third time, sending a shiver down his spine.

And then the mage finally stops with a deep, satisfied sigh, the muscles under his fingers uncoiling as he kisses his neck. “Ah… ahn…” His voice rasps, hoarse and weak, through the noisy pants as he tries to retake his breath. His legs feel dead, and any attempt to move is jerky and heavy as if there are weights tied to his limbs. He still can vividly feel his ass stretched wide open around the man still buried deep within him, his body shaking and shivering. “Y- you… inside…”

The mage huffs a low laugh. “Yes, forgive me, I couldn´t control myself. Cumming this much inside your virgin little hole was a bit too much. Mnnh… oh, what a mess.” The mage murmurs with amusement and trails a hand down between them. Roan whines in protest as he slides teasing fingers around his oversensitive intimacy, feeling dim sparks of pleasure. “Look at you… cumming from being fucked in the ass for the first time… how delightful.”

Roan drags his arms away from the man and covers his face tightly. He tries to squeeze away the burning in his eyes, tries to control his lungs – but in the end is fruitless and the tears stars to roll down, sobs racking his body.

“Why…? W- why would you do this? They´ll kill me for carrying an enemy´s child…!”

The mage tuts softly, kissing his throat, his wet cheeks, the corner of his mouth – silken lips brush against his, moving gently, and a wet warmth caresses his lower lip, teasing it open. “Wha-… Mnh…!” The warmth slides _inside_ his mouth, muffling his gasp of surprise into a moan as it caresses his tongue in a messy, slippery spiral. Feels so… strange, hot and wet and distracting – Roan forgets the tightness on his chest as the druid angles their mouths and- and k- kisses him?

Is this what this is?

Gentle fingers pull his arms away from his face and Roan lets them, too distracted. A hand starts to comb his hair slowly as the other guides his own around the druid´s neck, and the prince hugs him without further thinking. When he draws back after long, quiet seconds of doing this, Roan flickers his eyes open as if waking up with tingling lips and tongue, a strange hiccup in his breathing and a desire to follow the mage like a puppet being drawn after taunt strings.

“Do not cry, my lovely little one…” The hand on his hair slides down to cup his jaw, a thumb gently wiping his tears from his cheek. Something flutters inside his chest at the adoration in the mage´s voice – the _fondness_ in the golden eyes so, so terribly warm. “Pleasure is a blessing, not a sin. Do not let those brutes you call family fool you on this.”

“I…” He swallows, feeling… confused. “But-”

“Shh.” A finger touches his lips and Roan stops talking, staring. The small smile curling in the corner of the druid´s mouth melts away as he caresses his hair, kisses his jaw. The hips static for the last minutes suddenly roll, dragging out inch after inch of encrusted cock from inside him, his muscles tricked into relaxing during this pause seizing around that shaft in shock. His head falls back as a loud moan rolls out of him with loud slurping noise, pleasure hitting him unexpectedly.

“W- what-” He pants, trying to breathe, arching as his worn nerves are rub.

The head gets caught and Roan squeezes his eyes, swallowing a whimper, as the mage huffs a laugh, one large hand descending his leg to where they are connected. The boy shivers and shrinks as the druid gently, slowly pulls out, feeling the cockhead spreading his abused ring little by little, until… finally popping out with a wet sound.

He immediately starts to leak, hot cum dripping from his hole and trickling down his ass and lower back, mixing with the sweat covering his skin. Warmth like a furnace burns around his neck, climbing to his face and Roan hides it, arms circling his head as he pants softly. The mage coos above him while slowly lowering his body back to the bench. “You´re so lovely… I wish I had the time to fuck you all over again.”

Roan shivers at those words and curls even tightly.

Mao Jao chuckles. There´s the rustle of clothes being fixed.

And then fingers scrape against the back of his neck lightly and it's like something cold and dense is spilling there, running down his skin. Roan flinches back, eyes snapping open wide, back cracking against the wall as he desperately scratches the strange feeling spreading across his skin. "What-!" He is exclaiming, fear and panic, and then he touches the fabric of his shirt. No sweat. Dry.

And suddenly Roan discovers that his clothes are back to normal.

He stares frozen for a moment before hesitantly looking up at the mage in confusion. The heavy, thick smell permeating the air of the carriage vanished ... and the remnants on his skin as well.

Everything except-

Except-

Mao Jao smiles crookedly, exposing a sharp canine. “Let this be our secret, my prince,” he says in honey and warm wine, one hand reaching out to curl under his chin gently. A thumb with a silver ring slips down his bottom lip and Roan dares not move or breathe. “Just a little reminder, just for you, until our next encounter…” He leans forward and presses their mouths together lightly.

At the same moment, the throbbing in his ass blooms intensely and Roan inadvertently whines, arching to remove himself from the seat - but no use, it continues to get worse. He can feel the open way within him, burning and pulsing and deep, so deep, ghostly sensation of that cock pounding and moving. Roan takes a shaky, startled breath and feels the mage´s smile against his mouth before he backs away, golden eyes warm and dark.

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

The East Demon laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, feel free to visit me in my [tumblr](https://play-of-kids.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to those who want a help picturing what those guys are wearing since I suck in describing clothes, Mao Jao is wearing something like [these](http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/a/201812/03/WS5c04e346a310eff30328eb9e.html) type of old Chinese martial arts uniform, but with a black robe on top. 
> 
> Roan, on the other hand, although I don´t exactly describe his clothes at any given point so far, I picture him and the other nobles wearing 18th-century fashion, something you´d see in [_Interview With The Vampire_ ](https://www.denofgeek.com/culture/interview-with-the-vampire-and-the-origin-of-remorseful-bloodsuckers/), even though I wrote a setting that fits along the lines of the 16th century. In this chapter itself, he´s mostly walking around in this type [nightwear](https://br.pinterest.com/pin/479492691573798137/?nic_v1=1aLtTn42UhDTkUahbOiRJxwtqt1HsvHwJ5PhW017iHdBpPdTZTxAih3xU3kfvkmyEd) which I _think_ is unisex *shrugs*

“Did he ask for anything?” His mother asks, quiet voice silencing the commotion in the room and Roan feels the weight of the whole council´s attention turning to him.

Roan raises his eyes to the Queen. His hands are shaking so much he hides them in the folds of his cloak. “No, mother,” He whispers.

The older woman frowns lightly, tilting her head to contemplate her fingers resting over the armchair in a way that the white crown reflects the candles’ light.

“What did he say, exactly?” His oldest brother, standing beside the Queen, asks.

Roan swallows. “That he… that he wants what he always wanted since he came here twenty years ago.”

Mumbles bloom across the room, keen and anxious like the buzz of an angry insect, knights, and councilmen exchanging worried looks.

“The land,” someone says, voice heavy and somber.

Roan press lips together, letting his eyes fall to the ground. _Are sure?_ something whispers from the back of his quiet thoughts and the prince interlaces his trembling fingers tightly, throat closing, wishing there was something that could be done about the heavy ball in his stomach, cold and tense.

He lets the air out in a slow, quivering breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Did he do anything else, aside from issuing his threat?” His mother asks again, a hint of worry on her voice.

No servant or knight seems to have seen anything aside from the Mage King’s followers so brutishly pulling their prince out of the carriage, after the brief battle where the enemy surrounded their envoy in the middle of the forest’s road. The monster himself didn’t do anything beyond announcing their declaration of war, where everyone could hear and see, before vanishing in the shadows…

It’s the account of everyone present in the attack.

Aside from the corpses, there’s no evidence of… anything else.

“No,” Roan says quietly.

A golden laugh of wine and silk drowns all sound in his ears. _Are you sure?_ They whisper and deep within him something grows to a raw stinging, a throbbing of some sort, bruised and he can feel- the ghostly feeling of a hard cock pounding against him nonstop. A shuddering pleasure climbing his back.

The prince doesn’t look up.

“Nothing else happened.”

-

He can only relax a little when he locks his bedroom door behind him, the key turning with a metallic _clang_. He can let the air escape from his chest at last, but the tense tremor lives on in his muscles.

His whole body is shaking still.

Roan quickly changes into his nightgown and pushes the clothes under the bed with a feeling of... shame. Guilt. _I need to get rid of this_.

The clothes themselves are perfectly fine.

And yet the young prince wrecks his brain thinking of ways of throwing them away without attracting attention, terrified that someone somehow will find out what happened just by looking at them. Perhaps the fireplace?

He shakily slides under the blankets, moving with the care his aching body demands. His ass burns in an eternal reminder, the smallest brush of the clothes sending sparks of pain through his body - he should have asked the healer for something, but-... He breathes in short and hugs himself, gluing his thighs together and bringing them closer to his chest.

Neck hot, he sinks his face into a pillow, feeling his heart trembling. Roan had a duty as a prince to guard himself until the day his wife was chosen, therefore he has never even kissed anyone before! He cannot understand the things he did, that he let that person do to him. _The Demon of the East!_

Roan— Roan _felt_ the Demon of the East inside him, felt the Enemy's c-cock penetrating him as if he were a woman. Breaching his body.

He feels heat spreading through him and drowns out a low sound against the pillow, his breathing quickening.

Sex.

Was that- was that what happened? His first time? Does- does this mean that Roan is no longer a virgin? He didn't put it on anyone, he just... came. In the air. Does it count if he had another man i-inside him?

He can feel his heart racing, strong unrhythmic drumming as the memories fill his head.

A shiver blooms in tingling heat, descending to the base of his spine and his thighs tighten together when that tingle _spreads_. He runs his tongue over dry lips, feeling them sensitive with the memory of someone else's tongue inside his mouth - he always imagined it would be strange, no matter how curious he was to try kissing… He slides his tongue over where the man licked him and the strange sensation sinks in his stomach, making his toes curl. He pulls at his collar, heat rolling up his neck and burning his face.

What is this? What's wrong with him?

Why is he reacting this way?

The tightness in his stomach grows worse and Roan closes his eyes, breathing fast, remembering the sound of lips sucking on his skin, powerful hands holding him-- he saw himself while changing clothes, full of purple marks on his chest and fingerprints on his thighs, on his hips. He remembers the abrasive, soldering, unforgivable _heat_ shoving into him, filling him to the brim as if it was nothing, and Roan groans softly, shaking. He tenses without thinking and the shock of pain only helps to invoke the memory more vividly.

His undergarment feels stuffy. Tight. Roan runs his hand down between his thighs pressed together and shudders, feeling his already hot and hard volume trapped between them, throbbing. His eyes sting - he is so confused.

His body, it’s all strange now. This never happened before, not with him awake at least. Maybe the mage casted a spell on him? Broke him? Maybe a man really wasn’t meant to put inside another man and now-- now Roan is all messed up.

 _Or maybe_ , a thought whispers from the back of his head, _it’s the sin corrupting your soul. You’re tainted now, unholy._

_Because you liked it._

“No…” Roan rips his hand away from between his legs and twists in bed until he’s on his back, legs spreading to relieve any pressure. He tries to ignore the almost painful throbbing of his length, the way he can feel it straining against his clothes, uncomfortable hot and-- and _wet_. There’s a damp spot in his undergarments, growing by the minute.

Minutes pass by: he counts them by his heartbeats thundering inside his head, as he lays still trying to relax and fall asleep. But his muscles start to cramp, coiled tight from head to feet no matter how much he Roan attempts to fight off the tenseness. His back is damp with sweat when he exhales slowly through the nose, hands curled taunt over his thighs sliding up over a hand-shaped bruise, and it stings painfully. Roan stops for a second… then does again. Drags knuckles against the tense muscles there, and shivers, does it again. Again.

The sting goes directly to his cock.

 _Resist the temptation_ , his teachers always said. _Pray for your soul, for the redemption of your sin._ Roan licks his lips, tongue moving inside a mouth that feels sticky and parched, before he bites them, breathing once deeply, shakily. He rummages his mind in search of the old prays he was taught but his mind is drawing short, the broken lines he remembers slipping away the more he tries to grasp them.

He tries to say them anyway. “Dear Merciful Holiness, thank you for your gift of forgiveness-… I- I know that my emotions don’t have to control my actions…” He stops to drag a breath in, uncoiling his fingers over his thighs. His breathing is deepening and he can feel dribbles of that strange liquid damping his undergarment, his skin. He scrambles for the next words, voice cracking. “May- may Your guidance saturate my m-mind and-… and direct my… my…”

Roan shifts a little, bringing a hand over his stomach where he can feel the muscles tense, a heavy clench underneath it, pressing down – his next words are not coming and he swallows, feeling his throat clogging. The feeling of clothes pressed snuggly to his cock keeps stealing his focus. He slides down a hand, hovers it over his bulge for a moment of hesitation- then slowly… slowly brings it down. He aims to pinch the wet cloth and peel it away but then his finger pads brush the underside of his cock and Roan can’t stop himself from gliding his fingers down across the sensitive part.

His air leaves in a short hush, his abdomen quivering. “Help- help me be f-free of sins…” Roan pushes the word out with difficulty, desperate – but his hand is pulling up his nightgown and slipping past the stuffy briefs- he quietly hiss as the palm rubs against his aching cock, the brief rush of relief as he circles it tight. It’s already damp, pulsing under his touch, and when he slides down a thick glob oozes from the tip to meet his fingers and he probes it, feeling a sting of pleasure as he feels the smooth shape of his cockhead. The foreskin is drawn back, Roan realizes.

He licks the inside of his mouth again, the tip of the tongue appearing as he fleetingly wets his lips, breathing a little faster through the nose. Unwillingly, his mind flashes to earlier this day: the image of a large, throbbing cock resting over the crack of his ass, hard and dripping and of an angry red, fat drops of transparent liquid leaking from the exposed head. Of it spreading his cheeks apart and _sinking_ inside him, forcing his little ring open and Roan pulsates fatly, whimpering. Thin tendrils of bliss seep over his body, a pleasurable sensation that makes his toes curl, his hand around a tight fistful of his nightwear.

Roan can feel the ache so, so deep inside him. His head feels heavy and his cheek flushed, mind starting to cloud with a haze of a feeling he can’t quite describe.

Slowly, Roan moves his free hand, trailing fingers along his stomach, quivering with his little pants. He can feel himself shaking under his own touch as he moves lower, sliding lower inside his undergarments and around the length of his hard dick until his fingers are sinking between his ass cheeks to feel the wrinkles of his little hole. Little shocks of exhilaration tingle up his body at the touch. It feels… a little warm. A tad puffier than perhaps it should be, as his fingers tease the circular shape of it, just a little.

He wonders how deep it’s, how far it goes into him -- an aching bruise in his gut and the memory of the size of the mage, balls-deep in him, his belly bulging outwards and Roan shivers. Removing his hand, Roan brings his fingers up to his mouth, slathering a couple in his own spittle until they are coated in saliva. Then he returns his hand, strings of saliva stretching before breaking and once again he probes at the little ring of muscles, smearing around and spreading. A tingle of pleasure shots up Roan’s spine and he let out a quiet, muffled moan, feeling the heat deepening in his cheeks.

Incapable of denying the sensation, Roan presses, feeling the entrance resisting against his digits for a moment. Only to slowly starting to sink in, his middle finger slipping inside, and immediately he feels the warmth of his own innards, and his body instinctively clamps down and squeezes around his finger. A stab of discomfort has him whimpering, but he keeps going, the astronomical tightness of his inner walls pouring heavy heat into his stomach.

Something is intoxicating about doing this, something carnal and lustful. He is panting now, lower lip caught between teeth to muffle the little noises leaking out: he runs his hand over his own cock, relishing in the sensations swimming throughout his system. _He came here_ , Roan thinks in a haze as deeper he plunges, the digit sinking further and further as the discomfort continues as a dull ache. Until he’s knuckle-deep, unable to gain another inch no matter how much he pushes. A whine escapes his lips and he let his head fall back into the pillow, squirming a little. _The mage_ , the thoughts rings almost drunk, _was so much bigger_.

Perhaps a little less than a third of the depth the mage’s cock managed. As he drags his hand up and down, stroking his length, sending quivers of delicate delight up his body, he comes to the realization, not even his own dick would have been enough – length _and_ girth. His stomach twists at the thought and a moan pour out, a spark of arousal making him stroke harder. His breath starts to come out in short, heavy pants, as he finds himself instinctively pushing his hand down and pressing it tighter around his cock.

With his finger is still delved deep, he feels around the hot, tight space, trying to find some semblance of a ‘landmark’ in those strange, velvety walls. But it’s unable to, nothing appearing different enough to attract attention, no signals of ever having an intruder there… But, Roan realizes, it’s not like he’d know the difference, having no idea how his ass was like before. The only thing that is for certain is the strange pleasure he feels, and the way it makes his skin prickle with a feeling he never experienced before today… before having the demon inside him. His finger is but a mere fragile echo to the intense, overwhelming of feeling Mao Jao fucking him mercilessly.

He remembers the heat pouring inside him, leaking from his hole down his tights in a heavy flow. Is he really going to be pregnant? He doesn’t remember his teachers ever saying something about the possibility of pregnancies for man, but they also never said having a cock inside your ass was something that happened.

Perhaps it didn’t.

Perhaps it’s a perversion particular to the Mage King…

Roan loses his air as a sudden spike of pleasure shoots up his spine, as the digit deep within him digs against- _something_. And Roan shudders, muscles rippling tight and hard, his toes curling, and he arches mouth-open without a sound. Wetness explodes inside his briefs, his cock throbbing inside his palm, and Roan can feel the trickle of something wet sliding down his girth. Thick globs, so much thicker than the other liquid, and as he rubs up to the head, he feels it spurting out from there and the shudder spreads to heat, wonderful heat, and the air comes back to his chest as he heaves a quiet moan – he looks down, to his raised hips and the lump of his hand pumping his cumming cock, seeing the dark spot between his legs growing.

He bites his lips, panting heavily through the nose, the blissful pleasure spreading like warmth through his body. His thighs are shaking as he backs down to the bed, relaxing finally as the clench in his stomach starts to dissolve slowly. Sweat covers his body, soaking his clothes and sheets until they are almost a second skin, and Roan stares at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

He unplucks the finger with a shiver and removes his other hand, bringing it to his face, examining the strange, new fluid covering all his fingers. His… his seed?

It is milk-white and sticky, hanging between his fingers like honey as he rubs and parts them. Thick. As he brings it close to his nose, its scent is pungent. Nothing like he ever smelled before.

_Well, that’s not true, is it?_

Feeling his face burning in sudden, gut-wrecking shame, Roan cleans both hands quickly in his undergarments before taking them off, shivering as his cum-covered intimacy is exposed. He dries himself quickly with the ruined clothes before kicking them to the corner of the bed and lies back, curling away from the wet spot on the mattress.

Roan hugs himself, curling into a ball and gasping for air – sobs take over his shoulders, climbing up his throat, and tears start to slide down his face as he cries, feeling so ashamed and confused.

What’s happening to him?

-

Mao brushes his thumb over his bottom lip, a movement permeated by distraction while staring without seeing the map lying on the floor in front of him. Lounging against the thick furs arranged to form a seat, with one knee bent close to him and the other leg relaxed on the floor, his long robe spills around him like a raven's wings. He holds the elbow of one arm with the hand of the other, both resting on his stomach while tracing the strange tingling on his lips.

The Council speaks around him, discussing in varying tones of exaltation that blur in a single wordless buzz - more than the fur embracing his head and slightly muffling the world, it is the voice filling his head that drowns out everything else.

_‘What are you d-doing ...?’ He asked, beautiful brown eyes wide, lower lip trembling slightly._

There is a tremor at the base of his chest, that Mao knows that letting rise will turn it into a purr that the whole tent will hear.

He slides his thumb over the edge of the inside of his lip, and then bites his nail, letting his teeth glide across the smooth surface. His tongue caresses the tip, brushes under - the boy's taste still in the back of his mouth mixes with the dead tree flavor of the strange contraption the humans like to use to get around, where Mao sank his nails while claiming the prince. Those strange boxes on wheels hoisted by horses, small, unstable - he can still hear the lifeless wood creaking under his knees, broken by the boy's cries.

He bites his nail hard, feeling the heat pouring down his stomach. If he keeps thinking about it, Mao knows, it is only a matter of time before he is fully erect, his aura disturbed and restless and obvious.

Not that it bothers him. Not only those who accompanied him in the trap, but probably every sensitive creature through miles felt the waves of pleasure leaking from him as he fucked the boy, unstable avalanches of heat, lust, desire - _toxic_. Drunk. A hungry man tasting a banquet for the first time, an obscene glutton taking control over any reason or logic.

Mao is already craving again.

A drug that requires only one taste to ensnare its victims.

He exhales through the nose and lets his fingers rest over his mouth, his index finger slowly tapping on a cheek. _Addiction_ , he reflects, is not the most elegant way to describe what he feels, but it certainly conveys the right intensity.

His hand snaps to grab the wrist of the hand almost touching his leg.

Slowly, he drags his eyes from the map to the side, his thoughts bathing in lust and reminiscence taking a moment longer than usual to rise in rationality. Consequently, he faces Shun Ha for two heartbeats longer than normal before recognizing his advisor in the woman with the shaved head and hoop earrings. And one more to finally release her.

He settles his hand back on his stomach, while the woman retreats hers to rest her over her thigh, seemly unbothered by the faint red mark on her wrist. “My Lord should pay attention to what is being said,” she says, expression bored and even, “it’s a war council.”

Mao hums, eyes back on the map.

Bao Li snickers at his other side, the young warrior leaning forward over his thighs. His long red braids full of beads make a melody clicking against one another. “Our Lord just got a taste of his One, who is now a human, and ya want him to pay attention to a bunch of old farts. I think ya asking a bit too much of our dear leader.”

“Old farts!” Togh Si suddenly shouts, the older druid indignant yet amused, silvery hair just like his son braided away from the scarred face, “you rude boy! You should respect your elders!”

Shun Ha doesn’t do something so plebian as sighing, but there’s a subtle shift on her expression that translates the same sentiment, as the entire Council’s attention shatters from the previous discussion and moves to Bao Li laughing, head tilting showing the black neck tattoo. “Respect or not, ya gotta know there’s no way ya’re the most interestin’ thing to our Lord right now, right?” he says, red braids shifting as he leans back on his hands.

Mao feels several eyes flicking to him, but he does not bother to raise his face or acknowledge the attention of anyone. Fingers curling next to his mouth, a smile forming there.

More than one laugh resonates.

“Imagine that, a One reborn as a human. Must be the first time in recent history.”

“Our Lord’s luck!” Shi Fa leers from the far corner, “humans now seem even tinier than the last time we came here. Must be the tightest fuck ever.”

“You-! Show some respect!”

There’s a loud _smack!_ and a yelp of protest, but Mao is not paying attention. His eyes close at Shi Fa’s words, as he slides his fingers over his mouth – a shiver runs down his body, goosebumps prickling his skin in a formless desire. Memory paints canvas behind his eyelids: the taste of the boy’s cock sliding over his tongue, filling, hardening between his lips, sweet pre slicking the back of his mouth, desperate hands on his hair… the _melting warmth_ as Mao pushed inside him, tight wet walls stretching and fluttering around his length, the boy gasping and shivering and begging. So tight and yet _perfect_. - and Mao _knew_ , any doubt left from twenty years ago melting away as he hilted inside the prince, the intoxicating pleasure of that hole like nothing he ever felt.

He found them. Sweet and pure, jet-black hair and brown eyes like mead on a human boy this time.

His One, reborn once more after so long.

A sweet purr works its way up to his throat, as Mao lick the edge of his teeth, tongue pressing over the sharp tip of his fang.

“I still think we should have brought the prince back with us. I mean-”

“Yes, of course. Let’s enrage the most powerful human monarch and invite their overwhelming army to our camp, shall we?”

“What difference does it make? We attacked his convoy anyway, so why not bring our Lord’s chosen with us and spare him the work of going back for the boy later? It’s not like Queen Morgana won’t start preparing the moment she hears about the attack.”

“There’s an order for these things,” Shun Ha suddenly says, her voice a quiet drone that silences the entire room at once, “our aim is to bring our Lord’s One back to our lands and nothing else. A direct kidnapping would only invite unnecessary war.”

“So why attack the convoy at all?” Sempa asks from somewhere in the middle of the circle, chin resting over their fist, thick yellow eyebrows frowned, “We just announced our presence to the humans, sacrificing the possibility of a silent infiltration in the castle. We could’ve taken the prince with the Queen none the wiser.”

Bao Li clicks his tongue, braids treaded with beads making music against his armor as he shakes his head. “Yer all focusin’ on the wrong person, idiots. This ain’t about the Queen, whatever we ruffle her feathers or not is just a nice afterthought.”

A silence perpetuates for a moment, thoughtful as each druid present gradually seems to reach the right conclusion. The air fills with murmurs of speculations until a burst of loud laughter rings out before Shi Fa exposes sharp shark teeth and leans forward eagerly. “So, the plan is to make the boy want it so much that he asks mama dear to come with us?” his voice quivers with uncouth delight.

Shun Ha wrinkles her nose slightly at the younger druid, as if facing a particular disgusting smell, while Bao Li laughs and smacks his thigh. “The Dandelion will fall for the Lion, as it has always happened,” she says icily, “and when that happens-”

“We ask for a boy willing to go, in exchange for our retreat,” Sempa finishes. Their eyebrows are raised high, pulling on the scar crossing one blind eye. “I must say, that’s a risky strategy. What if the Queen refuses?”

“She won’t,” Mao purrs, opening heavy-lidded eyes.

The whole room falls quiet to listen to him, people straightening up, but his eyes remain where they once were: lingering over the great human kingdom of Avalan. Over the drawing of the castle that Mao personally, twenty years ago, knocked down the doors after sensing, all the way across the ocean, the bright presence of his One flaring once more after two entire centuries gone. He remembers the black-haired woman standing in his path, sleepwear hanging from a body still visibly recovering from a troubled birth and a sword aimed at his heart.

War burned the world around them both, flames eating stone; screams of pain and hatred rising to the skies from both sides. The ground trembled with the trotting of horses; the air filled with the clang of swords and snap of bows. Hell brought to earth by his impatience and madness, a path of blood and fear opened by force until he managed to reach that room - only to stop when he was face to face with Queen Morgana herself, newly crowned and young as just humans can be young.

The woman who brought his One into the world.

The only sound they both seemed to be able to hear, amid the war at its peak, was the crying coming from the cradle pressed against the back of the girl-queen.

_“You’ll not have this kingdom,” she said, eyes cold and scared._

Mao smiles. "She loves her kingdom too much to refuse," he says calmly and then leans forward and stands up in an elegant motion, robe falling around him with a soft rustle, feet sinking into the grass of the tent’s floor. “Let’s end this meeting here, my friends, since it has already been established that I have more interesting things to attend.”

Laugh, raucous and wild, rises loud as he turns to leave the circle, sidestepping his seat of furs before walking towards the entrance of the tent. He pushes the thick fabric aside, grass hissing underneath his feet as he walks to the outside world.

-

For as long as his memory goes, Roan stepped outside the castle a total of five times.  All for political reasons – nobles’ marriages and such – and never he left the carriage in the path between.  All he was allows was to peek outside the window, to steal glimpses of busy towns and luscious forests they passed by. Always framed by the knights on their horses, marching around the carriage.

This was not out of his own choice, of course. As the Queen’s third son, this is not his decision to make in the first place.

His body does not belong to himself to step outside on plain grass and risk getting dirty. Or eat the strange food common and foreign people eat, to talk to anyone and make friends. He´s but a tool to serve the kingdom to the utmost best of his abilities, and nothing less. His role is to marry someone of his mother's choice and secure the royal bloodline through a child. As well as connections and support to his family.

(It´s the greatest honor possible.)

(Rest assured, Your Highness.)

And for that to happen and to make sure he´d not bring shame upon the Royal House, part of his duty is to safeguard himself.  As the holy teachings, what the Gods themselves imparted upon humanity centuries ago, say: _' it’s the noble blood´s responsibility to rise above the sins of the flesh, for the human body is so_ _easily seduced. And the only way to ensure purity is to cut all temptations from life'._

Therefore, leaving the castle is unnecessary.

Interacting with anyone not approved by his mother or the holy sisters is dangerous.

This _is_ what he learned.

... And yet.

Roan stares at the open book on his hands. The lamp’s yellow light beside him on the floor flickers gently.  The large stacks of books form a small space around him, while the small flame casts shadows across the empty shelves above the young prince's head. An almost entire section of the library was removed and spread out on the ground.

Further away, the black rope that marks the forbidden parts of the royal library sets the corridor where he is – located in the deepest and most discreet part of the huge maze of shelves - apart from the rest of the great hall. Branding the contents of these sections as inappropriate, heretic knowledge.

The curtains are all drawn closed, the night outside lit by nothing but the moon and the stars. There is no one there, and it has been a few hours since Roan sneaked out of his room.

He should head back soon.  Someone is bound to notice his empty bed sooner or later, even if he told the servants to not bother him during the night. If he’s caught here... he can´t imagine the punishment. If- _if_ they don’t see what he’s doing and realize that he lied before the Queen. That something indeed happened in the druid ambush and it was better to cast him aside.

Perhaps they´d even discover how his soul was _sullied_ and he hid it, instead of begging for salvation.

Because this is what happened. Right?

Roan bites his lips, fingers brushing the page. His eyes feel like burning.

_People pervert the Gods’ gifts when they use it without any regard for them, when we fail to use those gifts in the way that they intended. Sin is pleasurable to enslave the mortal body, bringing down the rational mind and pure soul. It cut us off from the source of spiritual life._

That is what he learned all his life. And yet those damned words won’t stop ringing inside his head, crowding his thoughts, drowning out everything else. _Pleasure is a blessing, not a sin._ It doesn’t seem to matter that he knows they are wrong – that they are nothing but a horrible lie from the enemy.  Every single book in his tower says so, the ones handpicked by the holy sisters to weed out any profane knowledge.

It doesn’t matter he found hundreds of books here saying other things.  Talking about relationships without marriage, about marriage not necessarily between a man and a woman, or between _humans_. About making people feel good with your body and feeling good in return. How to enjoy it. Discussions about _pleasure_ and _lovemaking_.

They are _unsanctified_. They _don’t_ matter.

Roan closes his eyes tight, hand clenching closed over the page. He presses his forehead against the book resting over his knees, legs close to his chest.

His breathing wavers.

The mortal body is easily seduced, so to ensure he remains pure, what he wants is irrelevant.

When will he finally learn _this_?

“Those seem  vastly  more interesting than the ones in your tower.”

Roan jumps, head snapping up.

Crouching almost immediately at his side, a tall figure is studying a book with a curious tilt of his head.  Uncovered by the hood, long yellow hair falls down his shoulders, a large black cloak spreading around him on the floor like a shadow.

The prince scrambles to get away, alarmed. “What-!” His back smacks against piles of books that come down with rumble. He interrupts himself com yelp of pain, attention flying to the sharp agony in his fingers. He rips his hands from underneath the heavy books with a hiss.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Hurt hands gathered over his chest, Roan immediately looks back at the figure.  The person looks up and he meets golden eyes, a face marked by a thin scar crossing the lips and another over the bridge of the nose.  The change of angle hides the long hair from the influence of the lamplight for a moment - and light blond turns into pure white.

_Mao Jao._

His throat closes around a scream as both hands snap over his mouth, eyes wide.

The East Devil tilts his head, golden cuffs and chains attached to pointy ears clicking softly, and he turns on his heels towards Roan, bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor.  The black robe with long and loose-fitting sleeves is open, revealing a dark red tunic with golden and black straight patterns that seems to reach the knees, held closed by a pure black sash, with strange black loose trousers that clasp neatly at the ankles.

No weapon on sight, but since when this mean anything when it comes to this being?

One knee touches the floor as the druid leans forward, reaching towards him.  Roan flinches away, arms raising in front of his face, but both his wrists are easily seized together in one grip and firmly brought down. “N-no…!” He tries to fight back, terrified. It’s like attempting to break free from steel shackles.

Mao ignores him and his struggles and raises his other hand, covering both of his.  The fear sinking cold and hard into his stomach grows into a panic when he feels heat gathering between their skins and Roan snaps his eyes closed. _His hands will be burned into crisps—!_

the pain suddenly dissolves.

His wrist is promptly released. The young man falls on his rear with a yelp, arms swinging to avoid toppling back on the books again.  He snaps open his eyes in shock, seeing the druid casually sitting down with his legs crossed – he immediately gathers his own legs closer, trying to move away. Mao doesn’t seem to notice or care, grabbing from the floor the book Roan was reading before.  The human gulps down a dry throat, breathing quick through the nose, heart hammering wild – darts a look to his hands pressed over the chest. He tentatively opens and closes his fingers.

Normal. The soreness is gone.

He stops the air in his lungs for two whole seconds, looking once more towards the druid. Confusion clashes with violence with the fear, forming a heavy dread like a lead ball on his stomach. He… healed his fingers? With his magic?

Roan recalls the aftermath of the carriage’s... incident. The strange feeling spilling over his head and how everything returned to normal in the blink of the eye. Almost everything, at least.

(the bruises are starting to get green and yellow, splashes of ugly color on his hips and thighs)

The prince closes his hands, watching the Mage King turning a page of the book.

“… t-thank you.”

His voice is barely a wisp and yet the druid lazily looks up. A lopsided smile pulls the corner of his lips as he bows his head slightly.

Roan swallows. “How… how did you get past the guards?”

“I didn’t.”

“What? That doesn't-”

“This is a dream, my love.”

Confusion wins over the fear for a moment. “W-what?”

The mage hums, turning another page with a gentle rustle of paper. “I could feel your loneliness and frustration even from so far away. So I came.”

The air around his neck suddenly seems to get uncomfortably hot. “ _Loneli_ — you-” he stammers, “I’m not lonely! A-and I’m awake!”

Mao Jao chuckles and closes the book, raising eyes at him. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me, little prince. I know your heart very well.”

A half-word gets caught in his throat and his face flushes in anger. The prince hastily stands up. “You don’t know anything about me! Leave before I call the guards!”

“Why?”

“You’re not welcome here—!”

“I’m aware. No place in Avalan would welcome my presence or any of my companions.” He tilts his head back to stare at him, as he leans back on his hands. A white eyebrow is arched, his lips forming a wry little smile. “They would all rejoice in the opportunity to get my head on a spike.  Therefore, I’m curious about the reason why you’d tell me to leave, threatening to call the guards. Instead of simply  … calling them.  Perhaps  you do know this is a dream…”

Roan opens his mouth but nothing comes out, feeling himself freeze.

The smile grows, a tongue brushing the tip of an exposed sharp canine as he tilts his head to the side. “Or  perhaps  you don’t desire my death.”

“Don’t-” the words hitch on his throat before he manages to force them out, “don’t be r-ridiculous!”

Mao hums and then swings forward,  smoothly rising to his feet a few inches away from him and the young man jerks back, feet stumbling over books. “D-don’t get any closer. Leave this place!” he says, panicking.

“I can’t leave a dream when the one dreaming is still sleeping.” The druid leisurely steps closer.

Roan immediately moves one back. “I’m not sleeping!”

His voice resounds like a purr. “Then why don’t you call the guards?”

Breathing is getting hard, chest not expanding enough, the air thin and warm— this creature’s body heat filling the closing space between them, his smell— “  _Just leave!”_

“You’d have to wake up first.”

There’s a snap of an idea- fast, dissolving, his mind is reeling desperately trying to snatch it back. He can’t let him any closer.  He can’t- ‘ _When you die in a dream_ ’ he thinks wildly and pivots, feet slipping and kicking among the scattered books as he stumbles past the hallway made by the shelves and runs towards the nearest window.

He desperately reaches for the latch, his fingers brush the metal-

Arms snatch over his stomach and Roan is jerked away and against a powerful, warm body, long white strands flying over his face. “Ah.” A sigh huffs over his ear. “Forgive me, but I have no wishes to see you killing yourself, not even in a dream. So, I won’t allow you to wake up this way.”

“No, l-let me go!”

The fabric of the druid’s robe is impossible soft in his hands as he fights frantic, trying to peel away the arms snuggly enclosing him in a prison of warmth, broad shoulders covering his back and nose brushing his neck spilling gentle huffs of air, smooth hair cascading over his chest. He sobs, gasps in a breath, but it’s a mistake – Mao’s smell fills his lungs, the smell of rain and damp soil. The smell that has been haunting his nights, every night.

He can’t function this way.

He can’t think. He can’t breathe. Every night, every day, all the time since that day. Haunting him. Swallowing his thoughts, his will.

_What’s happening with him?_

“Why don’t we go somewhere more pleasant?” Mao mumbles.

Gentle heat spills over his whole body and Roan barely has time to cry out in protest before the world goes white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bye

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, feel free to visit me in my [tumblr](https://play-of-kids.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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